Don't do it again.

[Vilmah]

4 years ago.

"Stupid cunt!"

"Stupid ugly cunt! You pathetic little elf eared bitch!"

A kick to the face. Not in the literal sense, though. Being called an elf-eared anything was a big insult to their kind. Like being called worthless, or runty. She'd been called those before.

"I don't think she's getting up.."

"Shut up."

Throbbing pain in her forehead. The first of many that would come, years later. How come they always aimed at her head? Or more specifically, at her face. One of them slapped her, like a mother who was disciplining her very very bad child.

I'm not bad..

"She looks like an elf, doesn't she?"

"Skinny bitch."

A large hand slapped the back of her head, and stars exploded in her eyes. The Durotar sun hung high in the sky, slamming down on their green skin. Everyone smelled like sweat.

"..don't let it happen again, or I'll kill you."

I didn't do anything..

Behind the fence, Ber'gok looked apprehensive. The three other females strode past him purposefully, their hate-filled words and jibes unmasked before him. Who cared? Only the strong survived. He glanced at the tiny crumpled form on the sandy ground.

Don't do it again, Vilmah.

[Vilmah]

Their words were always full of hate. Even when they sat together, eating or talking, they cast looks towards Vilmah like she had wronged them in some way. They were young, some as young as nine, the oldest maybe twelve. Vilmah was smaller than even the youngest of them. At a time where the females were busily planning their futures, this time was critical. Or so they thought. It really didn't matter.

The girls were wondering what would become of them. Would they grow up to become hunters or gatherers? Would they be warriors, or even learn to harness their newly reacquired shaman abilities? Farmers? Mothers? Well, the last one was a requirement. The orcs had been freed,e women especially were encouraged to do their duty. As young girls, the last thing they wanted was to be paired off with an unattractive or homely mate. So the moment one that they had their eye on, a young and well-muscled youth who was sure to make elves bleed and humans cry, the moment he looked at Vilmah with a look of pity or even friendship, that was the moment they decided she couldn't get away with it.

"..stay down there," one of the girls muttered, as Vilmah warily picked herself off of the ground.

Not my fault not my fault..

"You don't belong here."

She heard it so many times she'd stopped worrying about whether or not it was true. Not even an orphan, even if she didn't remember her father. Her father, they said, was as crazy as Medivh. Worse than that, he was useless and a bad fighter in his state. After losing his wife, he all but gave his young and half-starved daughter to the appointed orphan matron. If he cared about her fate, it didn't show. The other children resented the fact that she was not alone. Rumor had it that she even had a brother. Why then, was she with them? All of them lost their parents, both of them, and they'd seen it with their young and impressionable eyes.

She was small. She was useless. She was weak, and would take away precious recourses. That's what the children saw, and some of the adults as well.

"What do you want to do with yourself?" Asked the matron, kneeling by Vilmah as she picked herself up off the ground. "What in the world can anyone do with you?"

Vilmah sat on her haunches. "Dunno.."

"Well you'd better think of something. If you don't figure out what you're good at, you're going to end up a peon or worse. You know what happens to useless women, don't you?"

She had an idea of what the Matron was talking about, but for the most part remained woefully ignorant. Nodding her head to make the older orcess stop talking, she thought about her choices.

Not good at killing, she knew. No spirits had ever spoken to her. A bow and arrow? She was lucky to not have stabbed herself the thousand times she tried using them. Weapons came more easily, but they were so heavy in her hands. What else, then? A farmer? Most farmers farmed pigs. Vilmah imagined the cruel lifestyle. They tricked the pigs into trusting them with food and kind scratches. They spoke soothingy before slitting fat throats with thick knives and letting blood drain into buckets to be used for sausages.

Oh the sausages.. she hated the taste, but everyone else loved it. Hog jowels, pork chops, pork butt, everything from pigs her people seemed to eat with such zeal it was a wonder they didn't just eat them raw. Vilm ah hated the taste, the smell, the texture of meat on her tongue, but she chewed and swallowed. What she could keep down kept her alive, but the moment one of the girls (or even the boys) caught her vomiting, they threw stones at her. What a waste of good food on a waste of an orc. Not even strong enough to have children, most likely. What good was she?

"..maybe.. maybe a warrior?" She asked, desperately.

Yes, she was good with an axe sometimes. Sometimes, when she heard them taunting her.

"You look like shit, runt!" Another girl teased, circling the smaller orcess with a sword in her hand. Jika was big and strong, a beautiful face for her kind and long flowing black hair. Jika was angry at her family for dying, for not proving the strength of their race. She was angry at herself for not saving them, and angry at the whelp in front of her for living when her parents should have been there instead.

Had she known this, Vilmah would have pitied her. Instead, the tiny orc exploded in an eruption of precision and power, forgetting her weapon to dive at Jika's stomach with her head and knocked her to the ground.

Blood on her fists as she pounded her face, so much fury behind hazel eyes that she kept deep inside. Vilmah's face an example of perfect grace and expressionlessnes. Whatever anger she had wasn't showing on that child's face. It was hatred, raw and bloody, welling up from inside and flowing through her tiny hands as she beat Jika's face to a pulp. So much bruised flesh that it felt squishy the more she punched. Wasn't anyone going to stop this, some of the other children asked.

The matron watched, unbiased.

She looked at Vilmah now, having been beaten while out of her element. She should have defended herself. Kicked, screamed, bitten, something to survive. Instead, she took their punishment like a martyr. Did she feel guilty?

"..a warrior?"

So tiny and frail and easily broken. Her spirit dead already.

"Maybe."

[Szordrin]

(I like this story...)

[Ashagga]

((Aw, poor Vilmah. :'( ))

[Thrysta]

((
Such a shame Vilmah isn't in the Grim.
Thrysta's ministrations are so effective when it comes to ending pain.

Nevertheless, I enjoy your writing greatly.
))

[Vilmah]

The hand on her shoulder was firm and cold. The matron held on to Vilmah for what reason, the younger orc didn't know. Was she afraid she'd run away? Hardly, where could she go?

"This one, Zul'tag" she said to the tall hulking orc in front of them.

He was huge and brilliant green, smelling strongly of ale and sweat. His face bore a jagged scar that cut from one of his eyes accross his bottom lip, splitting it nearly in half. A bit of spittle hung from the slive. "Too small. What are you going on about?"

"She has talent," the matron continued.

"Hands up!"

Vilmah wasted no time in raising her hands to the sky. She wore a faded white shirt with no sleeves and brown pants that came only as high as her knees. Raising her arms, she reluctantly showed her flat and unshapely stomach, hip bones, and a few ribs. Zul'tag grabbed her wrist with his hand, and slid it down to her shoulder without breaking contact between his thumb and middle finger. He did the same from her ankle to her knee.

She blushed darkly, ashamed.

"This ones barely big enough to pick up a sword. She'd only kill ourself out there."

The matron shrugged. "It's either this or a whore or a pig farmer."

Zul'tag laughed. "Ha-HA! Well, I doubt she'd make anything in either of those fields anyway... GALROK!!"

A few yards away, several young orc males were taking a break from their exersizes. A few had dumped water on their sweat laden heads and were shaking them like dogs. One of them turned towards Zul'tag. "Sir?"

"Weapons on the double, boy!"

Without argument, Galrok went to the weapons shed. Vilmah couldn't help but notice how he glanced at her. Was it distaste, or pity? When he got back and lay a spread of weapons at her feet, she decided by the way his eyes averted hers that it was pity.

Bending over, she immediately picked up a large two-handed axe. It's weight caused her arm to go slack. Galrok sighed. "At least take a--"

"In the ring!"

Before he could warn her, Galrok shuffled out towards the ring with his trusty sword and shield. It was quite a sight for the other trainees; Galrok was as big and strong as the best of them, and was known as one of their finest warriors. Vilmah, they had never seen before, but they doubted the runt could do anything with a weapon twice her size against someone three times as big.

"Ready.." Zul'tag roared. "..go!"

Galrok brought up his shield. He gave Vilmah a few seconds to prepare herself, which meant hoisting the axe over one shoulder like a shovel. With a sigh, he side-stepped her, and went to thrust the edge of his shield into her face. Much to his suprise, Vilmah allowed the weight of her axe to drop her body to the ground. Crouching like a frog, she sprung up quickly, and bashed the blunt end of her axe into Galrok's chin.

The other orcs gave a stifling chuckle. Galrok wiped a little blood from his lip and decided that he wasn't going to play nice anymore.

Sweeping his arm in a wide arc, his shield hit Vilmah squarely on the face and caused her to spin towards the ground. He lept forward, fully intending on bringing his blunt sword down on her collar bone, when the girl rolled to one side and, this was truly amazing, swung her body into a standing position feet first from her back.

A startled silence found it's wat to Zul'tag's mouth.

Without a moment's hesitation, she rushed her opponent. Galrok still hadn't fully turned to face her, so by the time he did he was able to watch as Vilmah again, used the weight of the heavy axe to carry her body through the air and spun like a piece of fabric until the blunt blade hit him in the back of the legs.

"Doof!!"

Galrok went down with a thud, much to the amazement of himself and the others. The matron smirked at Zul'tag. "So?"

He grinned. "Well.. we'll give her a chance. If she can't learn to fight better, maybe she'll be a nice distraction."

"Then you'll take her off my hands?"

"Shrewd as always, Juxa," Zul'tag grumbled, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a handful of coins to place into her hands. "Like you said, a whore or a pig farmer."

"I've no doubt she can do both here."